


Our Time Is Running Out

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Clueless Illya, Fluff and Humor, M/M, naughty Gaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby knows Illya has a thing for Solo. He denies it of course. Gaby has to use unorthodox methods in order to make Illya admit and prove herself right. Even if it means concocting a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They were waiting for their contact. He was supposed to have arrived earlier in the afternoon. They’d have passed him the information he needed and they would have been on their way home hadn’t it been for a slight change in plans. The delay meant they had to wait another day. Oh well, Gaby figured it wasn’t too bad to linger around and stay another night in their massive room. The hotel suite at their disposal was spacious enough, luxurious and very posh. Gaby didn’t know Waverly had such high taste. Perhaps Napoleon’s style had rubbed off on him. Speaking of the devil, he was fully stretched on the loveseat, looking contented, a book in his hand. Their mission was almost done and Gaby felt they’d truly deserved this rare moment alone, relaxing without all the stress and anxiety of the espionage world. Until their next one that was.

Looking at Napoleon, she smiled knowingly. Looking at Illya sitting beside her on the sofa, she grinned with a hint of mischief in her eyes. He was serious, looking at that chess board with eyes focused, contemplating his next move against himself. Gaby rolled her eyes. She didn't get what it was with Illya and his obsession with that chess board. It’s time to ruffle his feathers.

“You know, he’s just over there, Illya. You can go tell him now.”

Illya snorted and ignored her. Gaby was being an idiot. He’d never labeled her that before but Illya didn’t feel sorry at all. Because she _was_ being an idiot, albeit a very pretty idiot.

“Illya?” Gaby tried again. “Are you listening?”

“I am not going to tell him anything. There is nothing to tell,” Illya muttered. His hands were crossed against his chest but when Gaby poked him at his side, he grumbled and swatted her hand away. “What are you doing, woman?”

Gaby smiled. “I am trying to push you in the right direction.” She gestured at Napoleon making Illya groan. He then leaned back against the cushions and despite feeling rather annoyed, he managed to throw a glance at Napoleon. He was busy reading a book oblivious to the fact that they were busy quarrelling on whether he should let his feelings known to Napoleon. But feelings? What feelings? He had no feelings whatsoever for his fellow partner. But Gaby was stubbornly insistent.

“You cannot let something this big to yourself! You have to tell him!” She was indignant.

“Gaby, please! I do not like him!” Illya said in a hushed tone, hoping to god Napoleon wouldn’t hear or look their way. 

“Okay, you don’t like him,” she said before letting out a cheeky smile. She then nudged him on the shoulder and winked. “Then you love him?”

“You are ridiculous!”

Illya was red faced and his hands had already started to shake from Gaby’s continuous probing. He wrapped his arms around his body, trying his best to still them. Gaby had started her interrogation the night before, questioning non stop and despite not getting anything out of Illya, she had drawn her own conclusion that he had feelings for Napoleon. And it was all because she had caught him staring at the American in a rather 'unusual' way. And for the second night in a row, they were back at square one. Arguing about something so trivial, arguing about Cowboy. Illya huffed. If he had his way, he’d put Gaby on his knee right there and then. 

“You do not look at a friend like the way you look at Solo.”

Illya rolled his eyes. His lips were sealed tight and his fists were clenched. Beads of sweat were coming down his temples and Gaby giggled. “See? If I’m wrong, you won’t be as agitated as this.”

“You are enjoying this?” Illya growled. “It is not funny.”

“Yes it is. A little,” she smiled. She nudged him again when Illya remained silent. He didn’t turn to look at her and Gaby realised she had to try another way to make Illya admit he’s lying. She wasn’t stupid when it came to these things. She knew what she had seen and it was no denying the big angry Russian had a thing for the American. She just had to make him say it out loud and prove her right.

“Illya?” she began, her voice a little softer than usual and that caught Illya’s attention. She was going to try something a little bit unorthodox, not her usual way of doing things, perhaps it was Napoleon’s, but she’s going to try her luck anyway. She put a hand on his arm.

“If you’re nice I’ll let you in a little secret.”

“What secret?” 

She got his attention now.

“Okay but you have to promise me that you won’t freak out or get angry at what I’m about to tell you.”

Illya had turned his body fully towards Gaby now and his eyes were narrowed, a serious frown on his face. “What is it, little chop shop girl? You are suddenly making me nervous.” His earlier thoughts about Napoleon which Gaby had aptly put in his head were now gone. 

“Okay, do you want to know why I’m so insistent that you tell Solo how you feel?”

Oh no, Illya groaned. She was still on that subject!

“Gaby, please! Not this again!” Illya cried and it was rather loud because Napoleon had looked up from the book he was reading and was now looking at them with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you guys okay over there?” he asked. Illya noticed the grin on his lips and simply dismissed him off. 

“Just continue your reading, Cowboy.”

“Okay, Peril,” Napoleon smiled and returned his attention on his book. It must be some good book for him to be totally immersed in it, Illya thought. But since when did Cowboy read?

“Illya!”

Gaby was hissing at him again. “Are you listening to me? Do you want to know or do you not?”

Illya lifted both his hands as if in defeat. “Okay you win but does not mean I agree with you.”

“Okay, Illya Kuryakin. But be prepared because you might not like this.”

“Gaby just tell me!”

Shooting one glance at Napoleon behind them, she then pulled Illya down against her so she could whisper in his ear.

“Waverly is assigning Solo to another division. He’ll be leaving us once we get back to London.”

Illya immediately straighten up. The sofa shifted at Illya’s sudden movement and Gaby almost fell on her side as she’d been leaning heavily against him. She looked at Illya, ready to scold him but then she saw his eyes, round and wide and there was genuine horror in them. Feeling a little guilty, she decided perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to fool the Russian. You would not want to be in the same room with Illya when he’s all rage and anger and Gaby could only imagine how he’ll react when he eventually finds out she’d lied but she needed to know the truth! Desperate times called for desperate measures!

“Illya did you hear what I’d just said?”

“Why would Waverly do this?” Illya suddenly exclaimed but it was too loud for Gaby’s liking. She quickly hushed him before he could say anything else. 

“I do not know, Waverly wouldn’t say. But it’s normal for U.N.C.L.E to shuffle people around and he mentioned that he might assign someone else to team up with us.”

Illya felt ill. Napoleon leaving? It should be good, right? Sure they always argue and bicker and he was a terrible spy anyway, always jeopardising their missions, always getting into trouble, getting shot at making him worry, so having him assigned elsewhere wasn’t such a bad idea. But why then did the news make him feel sick to the stomach?

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Illya asked after a while, shaking his head, as if still in disbelief at the news he'd heard.

“Because it is a secret?” Gaby answered hoping Illya would buy it. 

“Why didn’t Waverly tell me?”

“He was not sure how you will react. He wanted to tell you himself after we’ve completed our assignment.”

Illya frowned.

“And you are telling me this now?”

“Because we are a team and it didn’t feel right keeping this from you.”

“Cowboy knows?”

“Yes, he does.”

Illya let out a low sigh. “And he’s okay about it?”

“I haven’t talked to him about it,” Gaby said. She bit her lip hoping Illya would stop with his questions and averted her eyes, worried he’d catch the lie. After a moment, she glanced at Illya again and saw he was lost in his thoughts. 

“Illya?”

Trying his best, but failing miserably not to show that he was affected by the bombshell Gaby had just dropped, Illya leaned back against the sofa and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, there is nothing we can do about it then. Waverly has decided.”

Hearing that, Gaby groaned loudly in frustration. “Illya Kuryakin, you are pathetic!”

“What??” Illya exclaimed, wide eyed. 

“Solo will leave without ever knowing how you feel about him and you are just gonna let him? Well I can’t let that happen!”

“What can’t you let happen, Gaby?”

It was Napoleon and he had made himself comfortable just next to Illya. They did not notice when he’d sauntered his way to them and Gaby couldn’t help but smile at him. He may be infuriating, irritating and could easily get under anyone’s skin, especially Illya’s but she could not deny he could be impossibly charming. No wonder Illya’s smitten. 

“Have I suddenly become invisible? Or are you both ignoring me?” Napoleon asked. 

The Russian had stiffened at his presence, Gaby didn’t miss that little reaction even if Napoleon had, and she had to act fast before her little white lie was uncovered. She wasn’t sure how much Napoleon had heard from their conversation but she risked her chance.

“Solo, remember what Waverly had told you the other day? That he was going to assign you to another division once we get back to London?” 

Napoleon quirked an eyebrow. Gaby then gave him an intense stare and narrowed her eyes and then she raised one eyebrow and then she wriggled them and at first Napoleon thought Gaby had gone crazy. Then slowly he understood she was giving him a secret code to shut the hell up and play along with her charade. All the while Ilya's attention was focused on Napoleon, which Gaby appreciated very much or else he'd seen the eye gestures she'd been giving Napoleon.

“Uhm, ah yes. I do remember,” the American finally answered with a slight cough. "So many information my brain just froze there for a minute."

Gaby sighed in relief. It was fortunate Illya had been too distracted by Napoleon at his side he’d failed to notice her giving a little thumbs up to Napoleon behind his back.

“I was telling this to Illya and how I can’t let that happen. I wish I could do something about it, have a say to his stupid decision but of course it’s not up to me to decide. It’s Waverly’s.” 

Napoleon was trying his best to comprehend this little game Gaby was playing and although he wasn’t sure where it’s heading, he tried his best to play along.

“Unfortunately _that_ is true.”

Illya still hadn’t said a word. But Napoleon could tell he was bristling. Whatever Gaby’s game was, he hoped he wouldn’t earn Illya’s wrath at the end of it. Sweet Gaby would never do that to him, he hoped. 

“You know as much as I will miss the both of you, I’m just a pawn in their game and I’ll play wherever I’m needed,” he said calmly when the tension became too unbearable and by the look on Gaby’s face, he’d given her what she’d wanted. But he was still clueless as to where this was going with Illya. And he was to remain clueless when Illya stormed off before Gaby could stop him. He disappeared quickly into his room, slammed the door shut leaving a confused Napoleon alone with Gaby.

“Okay, baby girl, would you care to explain what the hell that was all about?”

And Gaby groaned in defeat, giving Napoleon one of her sweetest look before patting at the now empty spot beside her, gesturing for him to come closer which he duly obeyed. 

“It’s a long, long story, Solo.”

“Don’t worry, my little Gaby. I have all night. Now tell.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Solo? So how are you feeling?”

Napoleon was amused at Gaby’s question but tried hard not to show it. 

She had just told him about Illya and her so called astute assumption that the Russian might have a little thing for him. She had also explained her little lie and why she had done it. It had Napoleon reeling.

“I cannot believe you involved Waverly in this,” Napoleon had said in disbelief. 

“Well he’s never going to find out. He doesn’t have to know,” she’d replied nonchalantly. 

“Oh really? Then what happens when we see him in London and Illya starts asking him about me? What will happen then?” he'd tried to reason.

“Nothing will happen because by then Illya would already know the truth! Besides Waverly is attending some conference in Paris. We won’t be seeing him for another day or two.”

“You’ve got everything figured out, haven’t you?”

“Yup.”

“And so you’re going to explain the lie to Illya after this?”

“After he’s done admitting his feelings to you. If it comes to that then yes I will.”

Napoleon couldn’t help but grin recalling their conversation. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and tried to consider Gaby’s far fetched plan. He shifted back on the sofa and eyed Gaby for a while. That little minx. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, the light in the room patterned the straw of her hair, softening the highlights. She definitely was beautiful. Napoleon had wondered why Illya never made a move on Gaby. He really thought they’d be an item by now. And now she’s telling him Illya might be interested in him? A faint wash of pink coloured his cheeks at the thought of that. Could it really be true? Peril having feelings for him? Unbelievable.

While Napoleon was lost in his thoughts, Gaby took the opportunity to study his face. His hair was a little messy than normal with a few strands falling across his forehead and Gaby found it suited him really well. He looked rather cute, he appeared more endearing, much younger and innocent. His eyes were deep in concentration and when Napoleon tilted his head, she could see the strong curve of his jaw and a hint of a day old stubble already forming along it. Gaby found herself swallowing a little at the sight before her. 

“Excuse me, Miss Teller? But you’re staring,” Napoleon coughed.

“Oh, sorry.”

She flushed when he’d caught her looking. Since when did she stare at Napoleon? Only Illya would do that. Oh that idiot! She shook her head and scolded herself. Damn it, Gaby! Focus on your mission at hand!

“So, you haven’t answered my question,” Gaby tried again after a while. She was now sitting crossed legged on the sofa with both her hands beneath her chin, elbows resting against her knees, facing Napoleon. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, not resting until she got her answers. 

“You are asking me how I feel?”

Gaby nodded. “Well, I’ve fed you with enough information. So how do you feel about all that I’ve told you? About Illya.”

Napoleon wanted to say he was intrigued, definitely intrigued, but he wasn’t sure whether that was the case. Of course he’d had thoughts of Illya, some thoughts bordering dangerously beyond what a normal friend would think of another but it had been merely thoughts, nothing else. He was never going to act on it. And now with this new found information, Napoleon realised perhaps there was indeed something fuelling his thoughts.

“Solo? It’s hard enough talking to Illya but you too?” Gaby grumbled when Napoleon didn’t say a word. He gave her a lopsided grin. 

“You know, I still can’t believe you lied to Peril. And I am not quite sure you are right about him having those _feelings_ ,” he continued, flexing his index and middle finger on both his hands, air quoting at the word feelings just to emphasise his point. “You know, Gaby, this time you might just be wrong.”

He was trying to see if he might put some doubt in Gaby’s mind. Perhaps she’d been wrong and it had been just a huge mistake on her part. So she had caught Illya staring at him, so what? An unusual look he’d given him, as Gaby had nicely put it, might not have meant anything at all. But she was still adamant, her confidence not shaken.

“Nope, not a chance. I’m telling you it’s real and it’s not something I had made up in my mind. I know what I saw, Solo. And Illya, he just needs a little nudge in the right direction.” 

No one was going to tell her she was wrong, especially not Illya and Napoleon.

“Are you one hundred percent sure of this?” Napoleon countered. Again he needed to be sure. 

“Yes, definitely! I’m positive!”

“There is no doubt at all in your mind? Not even the slightest possibility that you could be wrong?”

“ _No!_ ”

Well, Napoleon couldn’t argue anymore. Gaby had her mind made up and she wasn’t going to back down. His heart started to beat a little faster at the thought of confronting Illya. But then a thought entered his mind. Should he confront him straightaway or prolonged Gaby’s lie, just for a while longer? Maybe that would be more intriguing, messing with Peril's mind. It would be gold to see how he would react, him squirming with his face all flushed and fuming. Napoleon would definitely love to see that. His lips then curled into a devious grin. 

“I like you, Gaby, you’re definitely a genius,” Napoleon began as he got up from the sofa.

Gaby followed suit, anxious with excitement. She rubbed her hands together. “So you feel the same way about him? You will tell him how you feel and all will be okay?” 

There was a twinkle in her eye but it quickly faded when she heard Napoleon’s next words.

“Let’s just mess with Peril first. I _do_ want him to admit it but I want to have a little bit of fun before we get to the melodramatic part.”

“Nooo…that’s not the plan, Solo!” Gaby exclaimed, a bit worried Napoleon might get overboard but despite that, she was careful enough to tone her voice down. She didn’t want Illya to listen to their conversation, if he’s not already listening. And Napoleon surely wasn’t listening to her because he was already making his way towards Illya’s room.

“Napoleon, wait!”

Hearing Gaby call him by his first name made Napoleon stop short and turned to look at Gaby. She’s so little but she had enough power to make him obey her commands. Napoleon stifled a laughter.

“What, Gaby?” he asked the frustrated girl in front of him.

She pulled at his sleeve and tried her best to reason out that what they were about to do was a bad idea. But Napoleon wasn’t going to back down either.

“You see, the problem with your plan is in the end we still have to lie to him. You think he will not mention about the so called transfer? Illya does not forget easily, my friend. And _you_ will still need to explain to Illya that everything, all of this had been your plan all along.”

“But...” Gaby began, wanting to argue but Napoleon cut her off.

“Gaby, you’d wanted to prove your point, so here’s your chance! It doesn’t matter how we’re going to do it. Once Peril says it out loud, you would win and that’s that.”

“But, Solo, this is serious!" Gaby exclaimed, her eyes flashing, indignant. She was hoping Napoleon would see her point. "Look I know I messed up. But, but you can’t just mess with his feelings. Will you mean what you say after he’s confessed? If you say it at all?”

“Why dear Gaby, you were not worried when you started this whole mess? Did you consider that I might not have feelings for Peril as how you think he has it for me, hmm?”

“I wasn’t worried because I have confidence in the both of you proving me right," Gaby said, her voice unwavering, indicating her stance, defending herself from Napoleon. But then with a little grin, she casually bit on a finger nail giving Napoleon a guilty look. "But I'm sorry I got you in this mess. It’s just I wasn’t thinking clearly before and I got a little excited to prove Illya wrong, hence the lie.”

Napoleon watched Gaby for a moment or two longer, letting her words sink in. He turned his attention towards Illya’s bedroom, the door still firmly closed. At that moment Napoleon wondered whether the Russian was listening to their conversation. Bugs! He suddenly realised he’d forgotten to check the suite for bugs! Perhaps Illya was indeed listening right now, him and his nasty habit of bugging the room. 

“There are no bugs, Solo, I’ve checked so don’t worry,” Gaby suddenly said, her eyes rolling, reading Napoleon’s mind like it was nothing. He stared at her in amazement. There was just no escaping Gaby! He grew red at how easy it was for Gaby to read him. 

“Was I that obvious?” he asked with an impish grin.

“Yes, a little,” she smiled. 

Napoleon tried to imagine what his life would be without the girl in front of him and the angry Russian behind the other side of the wall. And he wondered how he was before he’d met them. 

“Solo?” Gaby’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Do you understand what I’d tried to say before? About Illya and you.”

“Gaby, look,” Napoleon began slowly, putting both his hands on her arms. Then he took in a deep breath. “As much as I love messing with the crazy Russian, I would never ever hurt him.”

Napoleon’s voice was gentle, his eyes honest and Gaby realised that was just as good as an outright admission of his feelings for Illya she was ever going to get. Her heart fluttered at the thought of her two friends having mutual feelings for one another but never admitting it to the other. Boys! If only she had meddled with their love life earlier. She stood on tiptoe and gave Napoleon a quick peck on the cheek, surprising him.

“What was that for?” he asked as he touched the spot where her lips had grazed his cheek. Gaby shrugged and smiled. 

“I just love it when my plan comes together.”

Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh. Gaby was truly infectious. If he wasn’t into Illya, he would have definitely made a move on Gaby. But he never tried his luck because he had always assumed Gaby and Illya would end up together. Now he realised he’d been terribly wrong! Ah, he was seriously fucked. It had been Illya all along and it took Gaby’s mischievousness to make him see it.

Soon after they stood in front of Illya’s room, side by side whilst looking at each other. Their nerves were apparent. Napoleon was chewing on his bottom lip and Gaby had a look on her face like she was sending a beloved family member to war, all scared and nervous, all doom and gloom.

“Gaby, I’m not going to die. Don’t give me that look!” Napoleon whispered. “You’re making me nervous!”

“Do you realise what’s going to happen to us when he finds out we had lied?”

“You started the lie. Not me,” Napoleon said. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll forgive me afterwards. Since he has _feelings_ for me,” Napoleon continued to tease much to Gaby’s annoyance. For that he earned a hard punch on the shoulder. 

“You flatter yourself too much!”

“I can’t help it, Gaby. It's your fault!”

“That’s not fair! We’re in this together!” Gaby hissed.

“You had my hands tied! I was an unwilling participant!” Napoleon argued. 

“Oh shut up! You’re not so innocent, mister. Now go in there and make him confess! You must make sure he says it out loud, I need to hear it.”

Napoleon shook his head at Gaby, a handsome smirk on his face. “You’re a bit crazy, do you know that?”

“It’s for your own good, Solo, now go!”

Rubbing his hands together, Napoleon took in a deep breath and slowly knocked on Illya’s door.

Illya, who’d been pacing up and down his room non stop since he’d slammed the door shut, jumped at the sound of the knock. He’d been fuming and still was. The two idiots outside his room had the nerve to keep that big a secret from him and now they were in front of his door, asking to be let in? Illya wasn’t going to let them off easy.

He had heard the commotion outside his room. He’d been tempted to press his ears against the door, to listen, but he’d decided against it. The actual truth in fact, he’d been afraid. Afraid if Gaby had told Napoleon about her suspicions, afraid to find out Napoleon’s reaction. And most of all afraid to admit to himself that Gaby was indeed right. And why did Gaby had to tell him about Napoleon being taken away from the team, taken away from _him_ , the same night he’d come to terms with his so called feelings? It was not fair! Illya was furious as the knocking on the door became more persistent.

“Hey, Peril, can you open the door?”

It was Napoleon. How was Ilya going to handle this? His index finger was tapping on his thigh, the movement more frantic than before. He closed his eyes tightly and took in a deep breath. 

“Peril, open the door, please? I need to talk to you.”

Damn it, he couldn’t ignore that pleading voice even if he wanted to. He grunted, his apparent weakness for Napoleon showing evidently. He’d managed to control himself from smashing every single thing in his bedroom but he failed miserably when it came to that smug American. Illya hated himself. 

“Come on, Illya, we need to talk.” 

“Illya don’t be stupid, just open the bloody door!”

It was Gaby! She’s right there with Napoleon and Illya was convinced she had told him everything! He groaned into his face.

“Gaby?! I thought I was going to handle this?” Napoleon muttered at the other end. 

“It’s moving too slow! I can’t wait!” Gaby whined. 

“Damn it, Gaby, get a grip!”

Suddenly the door swung opened and both Gaby and Napoleon gasped in unison. Napoleon could feel Illya’s fury all the way from where he was standing, noticed his fingers shaking, his eyes narrowed together. If looks could kill, both of them would be dead by now. 

“Cowboy, you come inside. Chop shop girl, you stay out,” Illya said firmly. Gaby’s mouth opened as if to say something, to retaliate, but eventually no words came out from her mouth.

Napoleon could only give Gaby a sympathetic look before he was yanked inside by Illya. Gaby giggled, even if she was afraid for Napoleon’s life but managed to mouth ‘good luck’ to Napoleon before the door was slammed shut for the second time that night.

“Okay, cowboy. Talk.”

Illya was trying to be in control of the situation, Napoleon could sense it. But he could also see he was nervous. 

“You almost ripped out my arm there, Peril.”

Illya huffed at Napoleon’s remark. He was nervous and damn right scared at what was about to unfold but he wasn’t going to let Napoleon break him easily with his charm and wit. Napoleon was leaning against the door, a lazy smile now on his face and Illya cursed inwardly. Fuck him and his handsome face.

“Why you did not tell me about Waverly?” Illya began all of a sudden. “Why keep this from me?”

While waiting for Illya to open the door earlier, Napoleon had considered about coming clean with Illya. He’d let him know about Gaby’s suspicions. But Illya was bringing up the subject Napoleon had hoped to avoid. In the end, he succumbed to the devil inside him. 

“Like Gaby mentioned, Waverly wanted to let you know himself.” 

Napoleon was glad Gaby had told him everything. He just hoped he didn’t let anything slip. 

“You think this is a good idea?” Illya questioned. 

“It’s for the best, Peril. Besides, you work best with Gaby and you’ve always said I was a terrible spy.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Napoleon could see the wheels spinning inside Illya’s head. He could see Illya was torn. And suddenly Napoleon felt guilty. The thought of him finding out the truth later would be much worse and Napoleon wasn’t sure if he would forgive him.

“Look, Illya,” Napoleon said as he took a tentative step towards him but Illya moved back, that little gesture hurting Napoleon a little. There was a tight feeling in his chest and unknown to him, Illya was feeling it too.

“I know I said you are terrible spy but I think we still work well together, the three of us, even if you are indeed terrible.”

Napoleon smiled a little. “Is that a compliment, Peril?”

“You flatter yourself,” Illya muttered and Napoleon’s grin just got wider. “So I’ve been told.”

“When we get to London, I will tell Waverly that transferring you is bad idea. I won’t have it.”

Suddenly there was a thud at the door and Napoleon was sure it was Gaby kicking it in excitement. He shook his head and tried to focused on the more important matter at hand.

“Make him say it!” Gaby’s voice was in his head. Napoleon shook his head again.

“Why are you shaking your head? You do not want me to talk to Waverly? You want the transfer?” Illya asked, his rapid fire questions so innocent Napoleon felt he’d fallen a little bit deeper for the Russian there and then.

“Illya, I don’t think it is up to us to decide what Waverly will do. Besides, I’m just going to be transferred to another division. We will get to see each other again, perhaps not as often. So when you think about it, it’s really not that bad.”

“it is bad,” Illya said. He was not happy. 

“Why is that so?”

Napoleon was infuriating Illya. Why couldn’t he see the real reason? Did he need to say it out loud in order for him to understand it? It’s all too much!

“Cowboy, we are a team! That’s why it is bad.”

“And that is all there is? Because we’re a team?”

“Of course, what else could be the reason?” Illya asked. Suddenly his stomach was in knots. What was Napoleon hinting at? Did he detect the lie in his voice?

“I don’t know, Illya. You tell me.”

Napoleon’s voice was low and it gave Illya the chills. He was moving towards him again and this time Illya stayed firm, not moving a muscle. When they were about inches away from each other, Napoleon muttered, “Please give me another reason why it is so bad for us to split up.”

Illya held his breath. Napoleon’s going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. He was trapped in this game, whatever it was Napoleon was playing with nowhere to go and as much as he hated it, Illya knew he was at the losing end.

“Peril?”

Illya was about to give in, to relent. He was about to admit it. He was going to say, “I cannot let you go because then I won’t be able to see those damn blue eyes of yours anymore, not as often as I want.” He was about to say, “You drive me crazy to no end, it drives me mad but I cannot see myself not having that madness in my life anymore.” He was about to say all those things when there was a sudden hard knock on the door, startling them both.

“Uhm, boys?”

“Gaby!” Napoleon groaned under his breath and Illya let out a huge sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure whether Gaby had saved him or ruined the best moment of his entire adult life.

“Hold on a second, Peril. Let me see what she wants,” Napoleon said, his voice breathless. 

Illya could only nod, not believing what Gaby had done. She was going to get an earful after this surely.

“Gaby, what?” Napoleon asked as he opened the door, irritated they had been interrupted but then his eyes grew wide in shock disbelief at what he’s seeing. 

“Hello, Napoleon.”

It was Waverly.


	3. Chapter 3

“Solo, you looked like you’ve seen a ghost,” Waverly joked when Napoleon could barely speak at seeing his superior in front of him. Gaby was just behind Waverly, poking her head out at Napoleon, looking pale, white as a ghost. She was biting on her nails. 

“Solo? Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that…I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Napoleon said after he’d managed to regain his composure from his initial shock at seeing Waverly. He let out a small smile, although it looked more like a grimace to Gaby. They were dreading the inevitable. 

“Come on, what does Gaby want now, Cowboy?”

Napoleon could only sigh because things were about to get a little complicated. He could hear Illya’s movement from behind him, the irritation in his voice apparent. Not bothering to explain anything, Napoleon stepped aside from the door to reveal to Illya their unexpected guest.

“Solo, what…?” Illya was now next to him. And then he saw Gaby. And then Waverly. And the words died from his mouth.

Waverly on the other hand could not understand the strange vibes he was getting from his three agents. At first it was Gaby. She had gaped seeing him at the front door earlier, even reluctant to let him in. And then it was Napoleon giving him that strange surprised look and now it was Illya’s turn. Although Illya looked more angry than surprised. 

“Hmm, did I catch you gentlemen at a bad moment?” 

That question from Waverly was innocent enough but Napoleon felt heat rising in his cheeks when he’d heard it. Gaby gave out a little snort. Illya however looked undeterred. 

“No sir, not at all. You were not interrupting us,” Napoleon quickly answered before Illya could do any damage. “Let’s talk outside, shall we?” he continued and gave Illya a pleading look before leading them all to the main living room.

Waverly then continued to talk, doing a quick debriefing to the team, his mouth moving but Illya did not hear a single word that was coming out from his mouth.

Now people say things happen for a reason and Illya would definitely vouch for that expression. Because he needed answers and the gods must have heard his prayers. There could be no other reason why Alexander Waverly would be there. At that hour, unannounced, unexpected. He was sent here to answer to him. And he would get his answer by the time the night was over.

“Our contact will only be able to meet you late tomorrow and since I need this information urgently before I reach Paris, I thought I’d come here and take it myself,” Waverly explained, holding the said file in his hand. 

“Actually I was under the impression you were already in Paris, sir,” Napoleon remarked, throwing a glance at a sheepish looking Gaby at Waverly’s side. Obviously she’d gotten her information wrong. Even though he wasn’t paying attention to Waverly, Illya did notice that side look Napoleon had given to Gaby but thought nothing of it. 

“Well, yes, that had been the plan,” Waverly answered but there was now a questioning look on his face. “How did you know I was going to Paris, Solo?”

Napoleon realised he’d made a mistake.

“I told him that, sir,” Gaby cut in, saving Napoleon. “You’d told me, remember?” 

“Hmm, I guess I did,” Waverly replied, although he looked like he wasn’t entirely certain whether he had indeed told Gaby that bit of information. Napoleon then grinned at Gaby knowingly and she returned it in kind. Illya noticed that too. Something was going on he wondered but Illya pushed his suspicions aside.

“Anyway, children. I’ll be off in about a few hours so I would have to make my move.”

All of them nodded at Waverly. 

Underneath that cool and calm British exterior, Waverly was a firm man and Napoleon would not want to step on his toe. Everything had not turned into a total disaster as he had earlier feared and much to his relief, Illya had so far remained quiet. Napoleon had eyed him the entire time and he could sense Illya was doing his best to keep his mood in check. But the tapping of the finger on his thigh was ever present, a sign that Illya could still burst at any given moment. And Napoleon felt time was moving in slow motion because Waverly was still there, taking his time checking the file making sure everything was in order, talking to Gaby, oh Gaby, cut the conversation short, please. And then finally Waverly was about to leave, hand already on the doorknob when he stopped and turned once again to face the three of them.

“Oh before I go, I just want to say one other thing.”

“Why are you still talking?” Napoleon cursed silently, holding his breath. He eyed Illya and Gaby. She was beside Waverly biting her nails, nervous.Napoleon was surprised Gaby still had nails at the rate she was biting them. And Illya, he was standing a few feet away from him but he could still see it, the tapping of his finger, the trembling of his hands, it was getting worse. 

“I want to congratulate all of you on a job well done.” Waverly waved the file in his hand. “I know getting this wasn’t easy but you did it. I must say I’m glad I got this team together,” he added as an afterthought. It was an honest compliment but unfortunately it was just the wrong time to say it.

“Sir, I need to ask something.”

Napoleon winced. Gaby squeaked and closed her eyes. They had been so close to the finish line. So, so close.

Waverly smiled at Illya. “Yes, what is it, Kuryakin?”

“This is a good team you say,” Illya said, his voice firm. 

“Yes, it is. A very good one.”

Napoleon could sense the tension emanating from Illya right from where he was standing. If he had stood closer to him, Napoleon would have done something to stop the catastrophe that was about to happen. But it’s too late.

“But you plan to transfer Solo to another division?”

“I do?” 

“Yes, I heard about this and I don’t think is a good idea, sir. I cannot have that.”

You could almost hear a pin drop after that because the silence that ensued was intense. It was like everybody was holding their breath in anticipation, the tension so palpable Napoleon could almost taste it. Gaby at Waverly’s side had her hands clasped together in a silent prayer knowing she had started it all. 

Waverly however did not seem entirely surprised nor upset at Illya’s outburst and somehow that made Napoleon even more nervous. He eyed Gaby and she seemed surprised as well. What was going on? It seemed like hours before Waverly spoke again.

“Well, truthfully I did have plans to transfer Solo.”

“You did??” Gaby and Napoleon both exclaimed at the same time. Now that was totally unexpected. Illya turned and gave Napoleon a questioning look. Napoleon groaned and covered his face in his hands. This was much worse than he had expected but then Waverly started speaking again. 

“You see, when you first started together there were always the arguments and the fights and I thought it wasn’t going to be good for the team morale. And I’m talking about you and Solo, of course.” He then glanced at Gaby at his side and smiled. “Not you, my dear.”

Gaby only managed a weak grin in response. Illya and Napoleon however looked at each other, acknowledging Waverly’s words. They were guilty as charged.

“And yes, Mr. Kuryakin, to answer you, I _was_ planning on assigning Solo elsewhere but then I realised despite all that fighting and bickering, you’re still the best team I’ve ever assembled and I cannot split something this good now, can I?”

“No you cannot,” Illya said firmly. Napoleon merely shook his head.

“And so I shall not. I will not break you up. Have you got your answer now, Mr. Kuryakin? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” he replied. 

“Satisfied?”

“Yes,” Illya repeated. Napoleon doubted that somehow.

“Well good. Alright then, gentlemen and lady. I shall make my move now,” Waverly said, amusement clearly in his eyes. He acknowledged everyone in the room once again before making his way out of the suite. Once he was gone, Gaby closed the door behind her and sagged against it as if she might fall at any minute.

“Well that now is a relief! Phew!” she exclaimed to Napoleon. “So you’re not going anywhere after all, Solo!”

The mock excitement in Gaby’s voice was so apparent it earned her a stern glare from Illya. He wasn’t going to be fooled. But Gaby chose to ignore him. Her focus was on Napoleon. 

“You are stuck with us, now, Solo. Aren’t you just glad for that?”

Gaby’s nervous laughter was definitely not helping him but Napoleon decided to play along just a little bit longer.

“I guess I am,” Napoleon smiled. He was indeed glad Waverly was gone but now he would have to deal with a crazy East German girl and one definite angry Russian. And one look at Illya told Napoleon he had already caught on their lie. 

“You do not fool me. Something does not add up to this story,” the Russian said, his tone angry and accusing. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

When Gaby saw Illya moving towards Napoleon, she immediately stepped in between them. “Now, now boys, play nice!” she warned. Napoleon glanced at Gaby and was proud to see her actually defending him against Illya. She was going to own up to Peril, making good of her promise. 

“Illya, what are you doing? This is a happy moment! We should be celebrating. Why are you so angry?” Gaby tried. 

“I saw you two giving those eye signals to each other. What was that? You think I didn’t see?” Illya growled. He was not amused, not at all. 

“Illya, look, we can explain this,” Gaby tried to reason with her sweetest voice in action. Napoleon on the other hand only stood still behind her, eyes locking with Illya's. 

“Well explain!”

Gaby let up her hand in frustration and then she took in a deep breath, ready to explain when suddenly she turned her attention to Napoleon. 

“Napoleon?” Gaby glared at the American. “Well tell him!”

Napoleon let out a chuckle. Ahh Gaby, he had definitely underestimated her. Determined not to fall for her trap again Napoleon ignored her pleading look and merely shook his head, turned on his heels and plopped himself on the sofa. He picked up the book he’d left on the table, the one he’d been reading earlier and without even looking at his two bemused friends, he simply said, “No Miss Teller, you tell him. I’ll just sit here and read my book and oh yes, do let me know once you’re finished okay? Because I have some unfinished business with Peril as well.”

Hearing that, Illya gave Gaby a menacing look and Gaby smiled in return and oh it was going to be a long night indeed. 

 

***

“I think you both are terrible actors.”

Napoleon looked up from the book in his hands and blinked. Illya was standing in front of him. Napoleon wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, wasn’t sure how long Illya and Gaby had argued, perhaps close to an hour? He’d tried to listen to them, occasionally catching on a few words here and there but couldn’t quite grasp the entirety of what was being said. They’d been clever enough not to let him listen. Eventually Napoleon had given up and simply decided to wait. The events of the night had hurt his head enough. 

He turned his head and saw that Gaby had already disappeared into her room. Napoleon would not be surprised if she was behind that door at that moment, ears pressed against it just to listen to what was about to unfold. 

“Solo,” Illya interrupted his thoughts. 

When Napoleon returned his attention on Illya, he saw the Russian had already made himself comfortable on the table facing Napoleon. His eyes were on him. Napoleon blinked again. Before he knew anything, Illya carefully took the book off of Napoleon’s hands and flung it on the seat next to him. There was nothing to distract the American now. 

“I heard Gaby’s story. Now I want to hear yours, Cowboy.”

That was one problem Napoleon still had to deal with. With a sigh, he sat up straight and leaned slightly forward with both elbows on his knees. He opened his mouth a couple of times, figuring how he was going to start elaborating his side of the story. Illya didn’t budge, still sitting there with his eyes on him, waiting for Napoleon’s move. 

“I have all night, Cowboy.”

That managed to bring a smirk on Napoleon’s face. After a while, he finally spoke. 

“We both lied to you, Peril. That’s a given. And we’re truly sorry for that.” Then there was a moment of hesitance before Napoleon continued. “But you do understand why Gaby did it, right?”

“Yes, I know why she did it.”

“Her plan almost worked before we were rudely interrupted by Waverly.”

Illya turned red. He needed to get back to the matter at hand.

“And what about you?” Illya asked, changing the subject.

“What do you mean, Peril?”

“Why did you lie too?” 

Napoleon heaved a sigh. Of course Illya would ask that. Why wouldn’t he? Napoleon thought for a moment and a small laughter escaped his lips.

“What’s so funny? I don’t think my question was funny,” Illya asked. If he was calm before he certainly wasn't now. His annoyance was showing. Cowboy still have not answered his question.

“Nothing’s funny,” Napoleon answered with a grin. 

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I was just thinking about what Gaby had told me.”

Prior to this whole charade with Gaby, Napoleon never imagined he would be having this conversation with Illya. All those wishful thinking he’d have about his partner had been merely that. But now, here they were about to broach that topic. They were on the verge of something big, like that moment before one was about to jump over a cliff. And Napoleon was about to make that leap.

“What did she tell you?” 

Napoleon did not miss that slight tremor in Illya’s voice. He knew where Napoleon was getting at and it was obvious he was just as nervous as he was. Slowly, Napoleon took a deep breath.

“She told me that you might have a thing…for me.” 

Something twisted in Illya’s insides upon hearing that. But he kept his focus, lips still tightly pressed together. He was willing Napoleon to continue and Napoleon understood exactly what Illya wanted. 

“And that’s when Gaby lied, when you didn’t give her what she wanted. To coax you into admitting the truth. About your feelings for me. That is if you have any at all,” Napoleon continued, trying his best to remain cool. 

Illya did not say a word after that and Napoleon wondered if he’d said too much, whether he had pushed it too far. He was simply staring without the reaction Napoleon had hoped for. For a fleeting moment, Napoleon wondered if he should stop. But then again Napoleon figured why should he? He was already plunging deep into that cliff. He just needed Illya to break his fall. 

“Illya,” Napoleon started again. “I guess the reason I lied was because I wanted to hear it too. An admission. From you. And it didn’t matter if Gaby was right or wrong. I just wanted to hear it,” he continued in one breath, his heart beating a little bit faster than before. 

Truth be told it certainly mattered to Napoleon what Illya felt and now after he’d said everything that needed to be said, he waited for Illya to make his move.

“I’ve told you my reasons for lying, Peril. Now what do you have to say about that?”

The wheels were spinning in Illya’s head. He wanted Napoleon of course. He had damning feelings for the American just like Gaby had suspected but admitting now meant he'd let Gaby win. And he couldn’t let that happen. Not just yet. But before his brain could process anything, his mouth had already moved on its own accord. 

“Gaby, she says things but she doesn’t know what she says. She thinks she knows everything. But she really doesn’t.”

It was a big fat lie of course. But Illya did not know how else to handle Napoleon’s intense gaze at that moment. Lying was his only option at masking the truth.

“So you’re saying…she’s wrong?” Napoleon asked, his voice so low Illya could barely hear him. He has leaned back now, putting a defensive stance between Illya and him. “Is she wrong, Illya?”

“She’s wrong.” 

Hearing Illya’s sentence, Napoleon could only muster a soft ‘oh!’ as a reply. His heart sank. Napoleon Solo, in all his eagerness at wanting to believe, to grasp the idea that something could actually happen between them had made the ultimate mistake of believing. Nothing that good could actually be true and Illya’s words pulled him back to reality. What was he thinking? Who was he kidding? Was he that gullible? Illya and him being anything more than friends? They were like fire and ice, put them together and what do you get? 

But the arguments in his head wouldn’t go away. The telling signs had been there. The look, the nervousness in his voice and when they were in his room earlier, Napoleon was sure Illya was about to admit to something. He looked at Illya in front of him and felt a sudden desperate urge to kiss him but of course he couldn’t and in the end Napoleon could only managed a sad smile. 

“Well I’m glad that’s all cleared out in the open then. I just wanted to make sure, Peril.”

He reached out, patted Illya’s knee and was soon on his feet. He was about to leave when Illya called out to him. 

“Cowboy, so you believed Gaby?” Illya asked quickly. He panicked when he'd seen Napoleon springing to his feet.

Napoleon groaned. Illya was surely not making things easy for him. He turned to face him, a soft expression on his face and for once Napoleon could not gather a quick enough response to Illya’s question. It seemed like his wit had abandoned him. He stared at Illya, the Russian now standing a foot away from where he was with his hands at his sides, his attention focused on him waiting patiently for his reply. What should he say? Should he admit he had believed Gaby? Granted he did have doubts but Gaby had been so sure, so convincing, Napoleon had no reason not to. 

“You’re not answering me, Cowboy.”

“It won’t make a difference, Peril,” he retorted in defence.

“But did you believe her?” Illya repeated the question with more conviction. “I want to know.”

“But what difference does it make?” Napoleon asked, agitated. 

“It makes a difference, Cowboy.”

“You are one stubborn Russian, Peril.”

“Will you just tell me?!”

Illya was not going to let Napoleon leave without answers. Of course it was his fault that it had come to this. His pride and his ego were his stumbling block and he could not deny it was his weakness. But he was not about to lose Cowboy. If he could overcome Gaby’s conniving scheme and Waverly’s abrupt interruption earlier surely he could handle Napoleon? One look at the American and he was already feeling guilty. He was backing him up against a wall but he could find no other way to do it. 

“Okay, if you must know,” Napoleon began carefully, “I did believe her, Peril. Surreal as it was.”

“Surreal?”

“A mixture of fact and fantasy, Illya,” Napoleon explained. He could not help but smile at Illya’s confused face.

“She convinced you and yet you still could not believe it? You confuse me, Solo,” Illya muttered. Napoleon thought Illya looked absolutely adorable at that moment. The Russian's eyes were fixed on him and Napoleon moved a little closer towards him and stopped when he was just behind the back of the sofa, Illya standing on the other side. 

“And I’ll tell you one other thing.”

Napoleon’s voice was low and serious, eyes fixed on Illya. 

“What?” Illya asked. 

Napoleon braced himself at what he was about to do. 

“After I had a chance to process what Gaby had told me, I couldn’t stop this tight, aching feeling in my chest,” Napoleon said. Then he paused, before continuing, “That aching feeling. Just right over here, Illya.” His hand was over his heart. 

Illya slightly trembled. 

“And did you know what else happened?” Napoleon continued. 

Illya shook his head.

“Your name kept resounding here in my head.” He put a finger on his temple, tapping it lightly. Words were spilling out of his mouth now, unable to stop. “And I keep seeing your damn face when I do this.” Napoleon closed his eyes and sure enough he could see Illya’s face and he couldn’t wipe it away from his thoughts.

When Napoleon opened his eyes again, Illya was there, the real Illya of course, not the face that kept popping in his head. He was standing there, frozen to the spot, looking at him with an expression Napoleon hadn't seen before. He was reading the American for any signs of deceit, perhaps he was saying those things just to mess with his head like Gaby had done, but Illya could not see any hint of dishonesty in those blue eyes.

“Okay to cut the story short, it messed me up bad, Peril. But don’t worry, I blame Gaby for this,” Napoleon continued, hoping the hint of humour in his voice would snap Illya out of his reverie. Perhaps make him admit that he’d been lying all along and Gaby had been right and yes, the whole messy affair had messed up with his mind as well. But Illya was quiet like a mouse and Napoleon realised he’d better end this false show of pretence now before things got any worse.

“We have an early flight to catch tomorrow, Peril. I’m tired. Let’s just end this now, okay?”

But Illya didn’t say anything to that. He simply walked pass the sofa and in a matter of seconds he was right in front of Napoleon, stopping his getaway, barely inches between them now. 

“Peril, what??”

“I want you to know something too.” 

Illya’s voice was uncharacteristically husky and hearing it was doing weird things to Napoleon’s knees. It became a tad wobbly. He could barely stand and with Illya being so close, he decided he should lean against the back of the sofa before he falls down like some damsel in distress.

“Okay, Peril, please do tell,” he said, hoping to god this would actually go somewhere. 

“Gaby was wrong, Cowboy. Because she thought I have feelings for you.”

Napoleon groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know that already. You said it yourself just now that she’s wrong. I get it, Peril. No need to explain it twice.”

“No wait, let me explain.”

Suddenly Illya’s hands were grasping his arms and Napoleon’s eyes grew wide. 

“Illya, what are you doing? There’s actual physical contact going on here.” 

Illya chose to ignore Napoleon’s snide remarks. 

“She’s wrong because it’s not just feelings.”

“What do you mean?”

It was Napoleon’s turn to make things difficult for Illya. He hummed and waited for the Russian to string his words together.

“This feelings, Solo. I try hard to fight it. Because it’s not good. We’re partners. We work together. And if this happens, we can compromise our missions. We compromise ourselves. We’ll be in danger. You will be in danger. Am I not wrong, Cowboy?”

Napoleon swallowed. Illya was pouring his heart out to him.

“Illya,” Napoleon whispered, prying Illya’s hands away from his arms and held it in his. “We’ll cross that bridge when we have to but for now, don’t you want this?”

“I cannot explain what I want with words, Cowboy.”

“Then why don’t you show it to me?” 

Napoleon was going for the jugular.

Suddenly it made more sense to kiss Napoleon than trying to explain what he was feeling with mere words. Illya leaned in slowly, heart beating wildly in his chest. His hands were cupping Napoleon’s face, holding him still. 

“This is bad, Solo,” he muttered against Napoleon’s lips. “Really, really bad.”

“For fuck’s sakes, Illya. Just shut up and kiss me.”

Illya nodded absently like a kid being told what to do and before he knew anything, he was leaning further against Napoleon, pressing their bodies back against the sofa. They were about to kiss when Napoleon lost his footing and he tumbled backwards onto the sofa, pulling Illya down with the Russian landing heavily on top of him.

“Oh that was one smooth move, Peril,” Napoleon groaned under Illya’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Illya chuckled sheepishly into his neck, the slight tremor on his skin making Napoleon shiver. 

“If only Gaby could see this,” he joked but Illya was having none of that.

The air was heavy with tension. He was staring down at Napoleon, his elbows bracing against the cushions on either side of Napoleon’s face. They were both breathless. Breathing was indeed a difficult chore at that moment and when Illya leaned down to press an open mouthed kiss against the curve of his jaw, Napoleon thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

“Illya, please,” Napoleon muttered.

And that single plea broke Illya’s resistance. Finding no other reason not to kiss him, Illya dove down and crashed their lips together. He explored Napoleon lips like he was his precious lover, kissing him hungrily, his suppressed passion for his partner evident. Napoleon accepted Illya’s kisses openly, letting those lips explore the length of his jaw with open mouthed kisses, before moving to his neck, licking and biting and Napoleon was soon writhing underneath Illya. His lips found Napoleon’s again and later, when Illya finally broke their kiss, Napoleon groaned at the loss of heat between them.

“So what is this, Peril? What’s this between us?” he gasped breathlessly. He reached up and took Illya’s face between his hands.

“This is bad, Solo.”

“But I want this.”

Napoleon had never known intensity quite like this before. It was electric. And Illya, he was still trying to comprehend that he was holding Napoleon, his fingers curled into Napoleon’s hair, looking at those blue eyes that drove him crazy. After a while, he leaned down again to take Napoleon’s mouth, claiming him with passion he never knew he had. Napoleon arched up into the kiss with a growl and he wondered where this had been all his life. For sure he’d had his fair share of kisses but it was nothing compared to Illya’s. 

“Uhm, boys?”

They did not know how long or when she’d been there but hearing Gaby’s sudden voice made Illya groan against Napoleon’s neck. Napoleon peeked through one open eye to see Gaby leering down at them with a huge smile on her face. 

“Hello, Gaby,” Napoleon smirked, his face flushed, hair disheveled with red plumped lips indicating how thoroughly he’d been kissed. It was a sight to be seen indeed. 

“I’m just so happy for you both,” she cried, a single tear running down her cheek.

“Oh, you’re so dramatic, Gaby.”

“How long have you been there, chop shop girl?” Illya muttered as he lifted his head and turned to look up at Gaby. His face was red. They’d been caught in a very compromising situation. He tried to pull up from Napoleon but he held Illya in place. 

“It’s okay, Illya. She knows about us, remember?” Napoleon grinned. 

“Yes she does,” Illya said begrudgingly before returning his attention on Napoleon again and Gaby was happy to leave her boys alone for once.


End file.
